


The Life of a Dead Man

by reiley



Series: Dead Man [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s02e07 Dead Man Walking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiley/pseuds/reiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>originally posted: 02/29/08</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Life of a Dead Man

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted: 02/29/08

* * *

There should be a sterile smell of antiseptic, but there isn’t, just that sort of dank, musty hub smell that pervades no matter how much Ianto cleans.

“Why don’t you just use superglue?” He leans against the railing, looking down on Owen methodically working the stitches out. “To seal it up, instead of poking more holes in your hand.”

Surprised to hear another voice, Owen looks up, questioning scowl on his face. Ianto shrugs and looks away.

“Since they aren’t going to heal on their own.”

Staring down at his mutilated flesh, Owen starts to nod. “We have any around here?”

A few moments later, Ianto returns, tube of glue in one hand, bottle of beer in the other. He hands the former to Owen, before twisting the cap off the beer and taking a drink. He watches Owen try to squeeze the tube into the slice on his hand and pull the skin together.

“You were right, you know.” Ianto’s voice is quiet in the hollow, echoing space of the empty hub.

“Of course, I was,” Owen replies, without looking up. “About what?”

Ianto takes a long pull from the bottle. Stares at the floor. “I have no life outside of this place.” He cuts off Owen’s retort quickly. “And I like it that way.”

The superglue leaks from the tube onto Owen’s fingers. Ianto wets some gauze and wipes it away for him.

He continues speaking in a flat voice. “I tried to have that before and I lost everything. I don’t want it anymore.” Binning the rag, he picks up his beer again. “So, this,” he gestures to the vast emptiness around them, “is my life now. You can call me pathetic all you like. You’re dead. ‘Course, you’re still here and you’re still a bastard.” They both sort of smile. Ianto blinks and moves away to sit down on the steps. “You died heroically. You saved Martha’s life.”

Owen makes a hesitant move, then another, and sits on the step next to him. “Dying _really_ wasn’t my intention there. I’m not like Jack - leap in front of the bullet, ‘cause it’s the easiest way to get it over with and move on.”

“You know, he doesn’t exactly go out looking to get himself killed. He just isn’t too fussed about trying to avoid it, if at all possible.” Ianto downs the rest of his beer. He holds the bottle out in front of him, watching the light play through the colored glass.

“So, this is it for us then? We have no lives, one of us quite literally, so… what? We’re just Torchwood?”

“Yep.”

“At least you have Jack.”

Ianto makes a sound though his nose. “As much as anyone can have Jack, I suppose. It really isn’t like that, though.”

“Then what is it like?”

“It’s…” Ianto shakes his head and sets the bottle down by his feet. “He’s never going to die.” He looks at Owen, earnestly, until the other man nods and turns his face away. Ianto stands, abruptly, and surveys the med bay. “God, could you make more of a mess?” He begins clearing away the instruments and other stuff that Owen had been using.

While Ianto busies himself, keeping his mind occupied to avoid having to think, Owen fades into the background and watches him. They move from the med bay into the rest of the hub, Ianto tidying up and Owen dissolving into the shadows. He spots Jack sneaking across the floor behind Ianto at the sink. Jack slides his arms around Ianto’s waist, startling him.

“Hey.” Jack soothes and rests his head on Ianto’s shoulder.

“Jack, I’m busy.” His hands tremble just a bit, but he doesn’t let the wet coffee mug slip.

“I was just saying hello.” He nuzzles his face into Ianto’s neck, leaving a few wet kisses just inside the collar of his shirt. “I believe we were making a date to watch that film you were telling me about before all the… stuff happened. And since it’s rather quiet right at the moment, I thought..?”

“I’ll just be off then, eh?” Owen’s voice across the hub startles them both. Ianto jumps out of Jack’s arms and drops the mug onto the countertop with a dull thud.

“Owen.” Jack tries one of his dazzling grins, but it falls short. “Didn’t know you were still here.”

“I thought you’d gone already,” Ianto adds, only chancing a brief look in his direction, continuing with the washing up.

“Yeah, well. Easily overlooked these days, aren’t I?” He strides past them, grabbing his coat on the way. “I’m going now, so you two can… do whatever it is you do.” And then he’s gone.

Jack stares after him for a long moment. Ianto doesn’t turn from the sink until Jack pulls him away. “You have that film on DVD?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Glancing at the door then back, Jack says, “He’s going home. To his empty flat. He won’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t get drunk. Television is crap these days. What’s he going to do?”

Ianto dries his hands on a tea towel. “So, you want to take a film over to Owen’s and hang out with him?”

“Just for a little while. I thought we could keep him company.”

“We?”

“Not if you don’t want to, but I think I should.”

“What if he doesn’t want us there?”

“Then he’ll tell us to leave.” Jack looks at him expectantly, a grin waiting to come out.

With a sigh, Ianto shrugs. “Alright. We have to stop by mine first. And we’re getting a takeaway on the way over. Just because he can’t eat doesn’t mean I don’t have to.”

The grin spreads over Jack’s face. He grabs Ianto by the hand and drags him out of the hub.

 

* * *

 

Shifting his weight again, Ianto turns and glares. “Jack, stop it. I’m not ringing the bell until you move your hand.” He waits while Jack steps back, holding his hands up in surrender. “And there will be none of that while we’re in there.”

“But this is our movie night.”

“ _Your_ idea to come here,” Ianto says, turning to ring the bell up to Owen’s flat.

A second later, his voice assaults them over the intercom. _“For the last fucking time, mate, her flat’s below me. It’s just one button down!”_

“Owen! Wait.”

There’s a silence for a moment and then, _“Jack?”_

“Yeah. Can you buzz us in?”

_“Us?”_

“Me and… Me and Ianto.”

_“What’s happened?”_

“Nothing. Just let us up already.” He grins at Ianto when the door buzzes, opening it and allowing him to enter first.

Owen is waiting for them at his door. “What are you doing here?”

Jack flashes one of his smiles, announces, “Boredom!” and pushes past Owen into the flat. He turns, with a flourish, coat twirling round his legs. “We brought…” He pats his coat down then looks up at Ianto, whose hands are full. Jack plucks the DVDs from him and waves them in Owen’s face. “Now, you can be your rude self and tell us to leave, but how likely is that to happen, hm?”

Owen makes a pained face and looks at Ianto, who shrugs and holds up a paper bag and asks, “Kitchen?”

Giving up, Owen points toward his little kitchen, walking past Jack into the lounge. Both he and Ianto stop and stare at Owen and the room around him. One of the sofas is tipped up on end, the other slightly askew, the coffee table is pushed up against the wall and the refrigerator is unplugged, standing open and pulled away from the wall.

Jack, eyebrows raised, asks, “Doing a little redecorating?”

With a shrug, Owen turns away and reaches for the upended sofa. Jack walks over to help him and together they set it down gently onto the floor. Ianto has a seat up at the breakfast bar and sets his food down.

“You don’t mind if I..?” Ianto gestures to the food.

“Nah. What’d you get?” Owen leans over as Ianto points to his curry of choice. Owen wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, that’s the one with the spinach? Disgusting. I hate that.”

Ianto smiles, blinks and looks away. “I know.” He eats his dinner while the other two set the lounge back to rights, Jack stopping behind him to pick out of the container. “Stop sticking your fingers in my food. You said you weren’t hungry.”

“When am I ever not hungry?” Jack grins, licking his fingers suggestively.

“So, what’ve you brought, then?” Taking a seat on one of the sofas, Owen looks at the DVDs and flicks on the television. He holds one up, turning to give Ianto a look. “ _The Notebook_?”

“Not me.” Ianto shakes his head and points. “Jack’s pick.”

“What?” Jack looks between them and shrugs. “It sounded nice.”

~~~

“Oh c’mon, Jack!” Owen pauses the film, _again_ , and starts to back it up.

“I told you watching sci-fi with him is impossible.” Ianto takes another drink from his beer, not bothering to care that he’s the only one drinking.

“What?” Jack throws his hands up. “That would never happen. Anyone who’s ever traveled through time would tell you that.”

They both turn and scowl at him. He stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth, thankful that Ianto thought to buy some microwavable at the DVD rental place. He hadn’t anticipated Owen’s purge of his flat.

~~~

Owen kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “But you were with him for five years!”

“No, no, no, no. _Stuck_ with him for five years. Very different. If I could have gotten out of there, I would have. Believe me, I tried.”

“But it couldn’t have been all bad. With your Captain John.” Ianto’s quiet voice makes Jack pause and look at him.

Unsure how to answer, because _no_ , it hadn’t been all bad. Of course, Jack hadn’t been very _good_ then, either. He hadn’t been Jack then. “You do realize that isn’t his real name, right?”

“I had assumed as much, yes. _Jack_.” Ianto drains his… fourth? Fifth beer? “But we can’t just go around calling him ‘that _other_ bastard in the coat,’ can we? Bit of a mouthful.” He glares at Owen, doubled over laughing. Ianto had _not_ meant it like that. Turning back to Jack, his brows knit together at the expression on the man’s face.

“You guys call me that?” Jack asks, as nonchalantly as possible.

The other two freeze for a moment then immediately point at each other, saying, “He started it!”

“Didn’t!”

“You said it first. And many times after.”

Ianto straightens up and turns to Jack. “Actually, I believe it was Gwen."

Owen nods emphatically and scoops some popcorn out of the bowl, about to toss it into his mouth. He stops, stares at it. The others stop, too. He looks up at them and chucks the handful at Jack with a smirk.

~~~

“So, it’s bloody freezin’, right?” Owen leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve gotta piss like you can’t believe, but I don’t want to go outside. So what does he do?” He points at Ianto.

“You wouldn’t bloody shut up. Were driving me barmy.”

“He cuts out a little hole in the tent and says, _‘Stick it there and just go!’_ ”

“And, of course, that’s exactly when Gwen and Tosh come out of their tent over toward ours.”

~~~

“I’m thinking, oh shit, and he just comes out swinging this big stick.” Jack’s smile is sweet and soft. “And that’s how we met. Right, Ianto?” Jack chuckles, craning his neck to see Ianto’s face, slack against his shoulder. “Ianto?” He shakes his shoulder, nudging Ianto’s head. “It looks like we’ve lost him.”

“Bedroom’s up there.” Owen points to the stairs. “Not like I’ll be using it.”

Jack throws a quick look in Owen’s direction, who can’t decipher it as sympathy, apology, or appreciation. Jack reaches a hand up to Ianto’s face and strokes his cheek, softly. “Hey. Time for bed.”

Ianto snuffles and rubs his face against the soft cotton of Jack’s shirt. “’msleeping.”

“Yes, I know you’re sleeping, that’s why I’m putting you to bed. Come on.” He slips an arm around Ianto’s waist and hoists him up off the sofa. “If you stay here you’ll be all stiff and sore in the morning.”

Holding onto Jack’s shirt with both hands, Ianto stumbles against him as he is led toward the bedroom. He mumbles, “You’re always stiff in the morning.”

Owen snorts and Jack turns to him, a twinkle in his eye. Owen watches them disappear up the stairs into his bedroom, but forces himself to stop staring after a moment, not expecting Jack to emerge any time soon. He flicks through the television channels, not seeing any of it. A hand on his shoulder a while later, startles him. “Jesus, Jack. Don’t sneak up on people. You almost made my heart… start beating again.” He lets out a humorless laugh, leaning back into his seat.

Jack sits back on the sofa next to him. His hair is mussed, shirt partially unbuttoned, and his lips pink and swollen. Owen narrows his eyes at him.

“Please tell me you didn’t just schtumph the tea boy in my bed.”

“He’ll sleep good tonight.” Jack leers and Owen groans. Taking pity, Jack says, “Just a goodnight kiss, I swear. He’s fast asleep.” He surveys the mess they’ve made of Owen’s flat and takes note of the number of empty beer bottles. “He drank a bit more than his usual, I think.”

“When you’re around, maybe.” Owen shrugs when Jack turns a questioning look his way. “We may have had a few nights down the pub while you were gone. He can put ‘em away, believe me. That’s not him drunk,” he points toward the stairs and a sleeping Ianto. “That’s just exhaustion.”

“Been a rough few days, I guess.” He glances at Owen, but can’t hold his gaze. Taking a deep breath Jack starts, “I’m-”

“Don’t even say it. Too late now, Jack.”

“I’m not sorry,” he says, quickly. “I just wish I could fix it. If I could trade with you…”

“Nobody would thank you for that, Jack.”

“Tosh might.”

Slumping down in his seat, Owen huffs, then remembers he’s not breathing. “When’s she gonna learn, eh?”

“Learn what?”

He turns his face up to meet Jack’s eye. “She deserves better. Always has. Especially now.”

Jack smiles slowly, shaking his head. “It’s not logical. She wanted _you_. She’s smart enough to know better, but that has nothing to do with it. Trust me, I know. I’ve never been very sensible when it comes to that.” He lets his head fall back against the sofa cushions, looking up toward the stairs.

“Yeah. We all know when Jack Harkness has sex on the brain, nothing else penetrates,” Owen teases.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“What are you doing with him?” Anticipating some sort of question or protest from Jack, Owen rushes on. “I mean, what is it that you’re doing. What are you two?”

Without lifting his head or looking around, Jack continues to stare up at the ceiling. “Whatever he wants.” He turns to Owen, a sad smile on his face. “You said it yourself, I’ve got forever. Forever, Owen, to do… anything. Millions of years, billions maybe, I’ll still be here watching it all go by. I have forever. He doesn’t. It’s just now. With him, I only have right now. So, whatever he wants. I just hope I can make it worthwhile. I want him to be happy. I want you all to be happy.” The smile slides away, leaving only a trace behind. “I’m not doing a very good job by you, am I? Any of you.”

“I dunno,” Owen says lightly, unwilling to let the silence spin out. “Gwen’s doing alright. Got the big wedding next week, and all. I don’t have to go to that, do I?”

“I think she’d be hurt if we don’t all show up.”

“Yeah, but…” Owen slumps further into his seat, and waves a hand in the air. “The whole point of those things is to get pissed and pull the hottest bridesmaid. What the fuck am I supposed to do? This will be the most depressing wedding I’ve ever been to.”

Jack opens his mouth, closes it, turns away from Owen. “I’m sure she’d understand if you don’t want to go.”

“Nah, I’ll go. Make sure this bloke is good enough for our little Gwen, right?” he says, with a teasing tone.

But Jack’s is serious. “Do you think it’s a good idea? For her to get married?”

“Ah… Yeah, why not? I mean, at first I didn’t see it actually happening, too unreal. But, I dunno, now that he knows and they’ve got everything out in the open… Well, almost everything I’m assuming,” he smirks. “He knows what he’s getting into now. Yeah, I think it will be good for her. One of us should have some sort of life and Gwen seems the most well-adjusted.”

Both men pull a face at that.

“But what will it mean?” Jack asks a moment later. “What if she wants kids? Rhys seems like the kind who’ll want a family. Can she be a mum and stay with the job?”

“Sure. Why not? Torchwood employees in the past have had families.”

“And they die and those kids grow up never knowing why they didn’t have a mum or a dad. She’d be better off leaving us.”

“Maybe.” Owen nods, thoughtfully. “But she won’t.”

“You don’t think? If it comes down to a choice between Rhys and Torchwood, which way do you think she’d go?”

“I dunno, Jack.” Owen’s voice gains some of it’s usual annoyance. “She’s bloody impossible to predict.”

“We’d lose her, either way.” Jack lays back and closes his eyes. “She picks Rhys, we lose her. She picks us, she resents us for it and we lose her. At least I can be fairly certain that Ianto and even Tosh will be on my side. They won’t leave if they’ve got the choice.” He sighs, his breath sounding shaky and a little wet. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you all again. And now you…” He turns to Owen and his eyes shine.

They stare at one another for a long time. Finally Owen says, “You’re the only one who’s never given up on me.”

Slowly the ‘Jack’ smile comes back. “And I never will.”

Settling back into the sofa, Owen picks up the DVD remote. “Right. One more?”

Wiping a hand over his face, Jack sits up. “We haven’t watched this one yet.” He holds up his pick of the night and Owen rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t object when Jack slides the disc into the player.

~~~

“It’s freezing in here.” Ianto emerges from the bedroom wrapped up in a heavy blanket, slowly making his way down the stairs. He plops down on the sofa opposite Owen, tucking his bare feet up underneath his body.

Owen holds up his hand and examines it. “I’m dead. Turned the heat off. Conserving energy and all that.”

Ianto blinks and looks away from him. “Where’s Jack? He didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t uh… didn’t come to bed last night. It was cold.”

“No, he stayed out here and made me watch his bloody girl movie,” Owen whines and Ianto laughs. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back. Just went out to get some breakfast.”

“Oh. Right.” Ianto looks around him at the mess, popcorn spilled all over the coffee table and the floor, crushed into the sofa cushions, empty bottles scattered about. “Um,” Ianto tosses the blanket off his shoulders and gets to his feet. He is wearing only an undershirt and his boxers. “I’ll just tidy up a bit, alright?” He bends, collecting the empties, clinking them together.

“Would you just sit down, you’re shivering.” Owen rises from his spot and shoves Ianto back down on the sofa. “Just stay there. I’ll go turn the heat on.”

“No, it’s fine,” he protests, wrapping the blanket around himself once more. “Where are my clothes?”

“Jack hung ‘em up or something. Check the wardrobe.” Owen waves a hand at him. “Never mind. I’ll do it, stay there. I feel like changing, anyway.”

Ianto pulls the blanket tight around him, tucking it in like a cocoon. He blows on his hands, because it is really cold in here. Looking around, he still can’t believe the mess he and Jack must have made of Owen’s lounge. Since the good, dead doctor hadn’t been eating or drinking with them. Ianto shivers again. He jumps when Owen clomps down the stairs toward him carrying a bundle. “Are those..?”

“Yeah, sorry, mate.” He dumps Ianto’s crumpled suit into his lap. “I’d have thought you’d have Jack trained better than that.”

Ianto’s eyes flash at him. He grimaces as he tries to straighten out his shirt and trousers. The jacket’s not too bad but everything else is a wrinkled heap. He pulls on his trousers, giving up on trying to flatten the wrinkles. Struggling into his shirt, keeping himself preoccupied with the buttons, he asks, “What’s your obsession with me and Jack, anyway?”

“Just being nosy.” Owen flops onto the sofa and picks up the television remote. He doesn’t turn it on yet. “Got no life of my own now, have to content myself with asking about yours. So, what’s he like then? You never talk about him. Even while he was gone, you wouldn’t. You know more about him than the rest of us.”

Useless smoothing down his shirt, Ianto sighs. “I wouldn’t say I know _more_ , exactly. It’s just different knowledge. He talks to Gwen, tells her things he doesn’t talk about with me. Same with you and Tosh. We just… all get different parts of him.”

“Heh, yeah, know which part you’re getting.”

“It’s not-”

“Not like that. You said. He wouldn’t say, either,” Owen gestures with the remote in his hand waving wildly. “Your… relationship, whatever it is.” He notices the scrunched expression on Ianto’s face. “What?”

“That word. People think calling something a ‘relationship’ makes it so much more important.” He finds his socks somehow stuffed into the sleeves of his jacket, along with his tie, and sits down to pull them on. “I could ask about your relationship with Tosh.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Really, if you think about it, everyone has some sort of relationship with everyone else they come in contact with.” He glances up at Owen staring with his mouth in a thin line. “You and Tosh. You and Gwen. You and Jack. All relationships of some kind.” Ianto shrugs, hands fiddling with his tie, not sure whether to put it on or not. “Even you and I.”

Owen scowls and tosses the remote onto the seat next to him. “You’re just dodging the question.”

“Yep.” Ianto grins, pulling up the collar of his shirt and draping his tie around his neck.

“So, if you don’t call you and Jack a relationship - because _clearly_ you have issues - what do you call it?”

“I don’t want to call it anything.” He begins working on his tie, looking around for a mirror, not believing for a second that Owen Harper doesn’t have one in his lounge somewhere. He finds it on the opposite wall and walks over. Lining the ends up correctly, over and under, around, knotting his tie and tightening it up, he catches Owen’s eye in the mirror. “He’s here. We’re both here. Now. Might not be tomorrow. It’s all that matters.”

Nodding slowly, Owen looks away from him. “Yeah. _Live_ for today, right?” He kicks the coffee table, sending it skidding a few inches across the hardwood floor.

Silence drags out. Ianto clears his throat and turns around, walking toward the kitchen. “Would you like me to make you a…” He stops abruptly, snaps his mouth shut.

“You’re alright.”

Ianto shakes himself, continues into the kitchen and locates a bin bag. “I’ll just clear all this up then.”

“You don’t have-”

“There’s nothing else I can do.” He stops in front of Owen until he nods. Ianto picks up all the trash and swipes the crushed popcorn off the sofa into the bag. He slides the coffee table back into position and gathers up all the empty beer bottles. “Don’t suppose any aspirin survived the great cleansing of your flat? I may have over done it last night.” He holds up the bottles in example.

“Nah, sorry.” Owen stares at his hand. “Think you could do something about this? It looks disgusting.”

~~~

When Jack returns with a grin and some fresh, hot coffee, he finds Ianto on his knees in front of Owen, holding his hand. “What did I miss? And could you maybe reenact it for me?”

Rolling his eyes, Ianto finishes touching up Owen’s hand with a fine paint brush he’d found in the bathroom. “Fun with superglue, Jack, somehow I don’t think you’d enjoy it.”

“Glue? No, no. Though I can tell you some stories about mistaking glue for-”

“Enough, Harkness.” Owen pulls his hand away, waving it about to dry the glue.

“Hey, you were the one taunting me with your ‘no gag reflex.’ ”

Owen grimaces and Ianto laughs. “You really should know better than to tell him things like that.” Ianto gets to his feet and walks over to see what Jack’s got in the bag.

“And you’re already dressed. I missed everything.” Jack winds an arm around Ianto’s waist and pulls him close, trying to plant a kiss on his mouth.

Ianto pulls back. “Onion bagel?” He clamps his hand over Jack’s mouth and pushes him away. “Give me my coffee.”

At that moment, Jack’s mobile goes off, followed quickly by Ianto’s and Owen’s.

“Rift alarm.”

* * *


End file.
